Revenge Is Best Served Cold
by RadioactiveSquirl
Summary: This is how Androids 17 & 18 came to be. UPDATED! Finally... I now have at least part of Part Three up, more will be added later. R/R!
1. Part One: Nano Prent

Revenge is Best Served Cold

Revenge Is Best Served Cold

By RadioactiveSquirl

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of the characters in the show or manga. However, all the original characters in this story are mine to use and abuse. I own them. Leave them alone. The plot is mine too. Leave it alone also. They are not yours; they are mine. But, once again, DBZ and Dr. Gero, Androids 17 and 18, and Goku are NOT mine.

Author's Note For First Time Readers: Just to clear some things up first, Part One is NOT about #17 and #18!! It explains the origins of a character that is in the rest of the story. It's still important that you read it though.

Author's Note For Returning Readers: Okay, here's the deal: if you are a returning reader, PAY ATTENTION!!!! If this is your first time reading this, then you can just skip this and start reading the story. I have reformatted the story and combined certain sections to how they are supposed to be I messed up the first time. I have also fixed spelling and grammar errors and mistakes in word definitions (mostly the whole word "android"); I just basically explained things better and in a little more detail. Sorry if I have caused you any inconvenience. Thanks for bearing with me, though!! Enjoy!

Part One: Nano Prent

1: Run

Planning the escape was one of the funnest aspects of it, because my mother didn't know anything about it. The other part was the actual escape. 

One night, after she had locked me in the basement as usual, I decided I was sick and tired of all the beatings she gave me day in and day out. Most of the cuts, bruises, and broken bones had healed. But my rage and loathing grew each day. I decided I would escape. I would steal one of her metal nail files (the kind she usually stabbed me with). Then, when she locked me up and went to sleep, I would sharpen it on a shard of stone, that I had found the other day, that had broken off of the floor in the corner of my room, the basement. I didn't know where to go from there, but it was a start. Maybe I would pick the lock.

I found what I needed the next day. That night, I sat in the middle of the basement floor. The stone floor was cold as a result of the fact that there was no glass on the window. I closed my eyes. I let the darkness engulf me. I became part of the darkness. I thought of the past ten years of my life. The ten years of beatings and being told how worthless I was. Being told I was a mistake; this was why I wanted to leave. I hated her; my own mother. I remembered six years ago, when my father died. I was four years old. My mother killed him. I don't remember exactly why. All I remembered was them getting into a fight. They were in the kitchen. They were arguing over something and yelling at each other. My mother got mad and grabbed a knife and slit his throat. He never screamed or begged her to put the knife down. I remembered thinking that was how I wanted to die; without screaming or begging for mercy. When my mother saw that I had watched her kill my father, she grabbed me and threatened me to never tell anyone what I saw. Then she went over to my dead father's corpse and cut off his arm. She chopped it up into tiny pieces and threw them into a pan. She then cooked it and forced me to eat it. I chocked and gagged as I forced myself to swallow. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. My mother slapped me when I gagged and asked why I didn't like her cooking. She called me an ingrate for not appreciating being fed and asked if I would be happier with no food. I smiled and told her that no food was what I usually had anyway. She kicked me in the face and threw me against the wall cursing at me. She threatened to kill me. She told me that if I ever did tell anyone that she had killed my father, then I would have to tell them that I had eaten his flesh. I shuddered as I remembered how my mother had screamed and cried to the police to cover herself up when she told them that someone had murdered my father. Of course, she didn't tell them that it was her. I didn't cry for my father because I knew he wouldn't want me to. He was never mean or abusive to me like my mother was, but he never tried to stop her from hurting me. He only ever spoke a few words to me in my whole life. 

All he said was, "Be strong. Never Cry, it'll only give her the satisfaction of hurting you and it will only encourage her." 

I didn't know what he meant at the time, but I never cried from that point on. I always tried to be strong. It has helped me. If I wasn't strong, then she would have probably killed me somehow. I knew my father wanted me to have better than what I had. I could see it in his eyes. But he was afraid of my mother. She knew it too. That was part of the reason why she hurt me. I didn't know what the other reason was. Maybe she truly hated me. Maybe she was insane. Who knows?

I sat there deciding if I should really go or not. I suddenly cursed myself for hesitating. Of course I wanted to leave this wretched place. I opened my eyes. Accustomed to the dark, they darted about the room as if the walls would show me how to get out of the clod, dark memories that this basement held. My eyes flickered passed the barred window. Of course! The window! I stood with my stone-sharpened metal nail file. I sauntered over to the window and started sawing away at one of the five bars. After about an hour, the bar I was working on popped loose. I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. If I cut through at least three bars, I would be able to fit through the window. I calculated the amount of time it would take me to get out. About two more hours. I took off again sawing at the bars again. My hands grew tired and raw after a while. I stopped only to sharpen the nail file and to pop the accumulating blisters developing on my hands. After a what seemed like ten years, the third bar let loose. I gave a sigh of relief and plopped down on the floor. My heart beat wildly. I rubbed my bloody, sore hands together to loosen my muscles. I sat there for a minute or so to catch my breath. I hadn't worked my small arms that hard in my life. All I needed to do was climb out of the window. Then I would be free. I stood and took one last look around the room. So dark and dreary. I couldn't believe how I had let my mother lock me up in there each night of my life so I wouldn't try to escape. I almost smiled at how stupid I had been not to think of leaving sooner, and for how stupid she was to have underestimated me. I hit my head and sighed again. I grabbed hold of the windowsill and lifted myself through the glass-less window. I squeezed through without much trouble since I was so thin from being starved half my life. I had done exercises every night before I went to sleep to keep strong and fit. I landed on the ground with a loud thud. I quickly looked around to make sure my mother hadn't heard. No lights went on. No angry faces peeked out of the upstairs windows. I let go of my held breath in relief. I looked around the area. I breathed in the brisk night outside air. I realized I had never been outside before. The slight breeze felt good on my face. It was the best feeling I had ever felt. Outside. I liked it.

I was in an alley. It was dark. The walls were covered in moss. There were muddy puddles everywhere. There were two overgrown, unkempt, ugly bushes on the side of one of the walls. A dim streetlamp glowed in the distance. I stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. I figured I should probably get away from that blasted house as fast as possible, so I picked a direction and started walking. The alley was very long and lonely. I saw a few rats and cockroaches scurry into the cracks of the walls at the sound of my footsteps. I stopped to look around just to make sure that it was real; that it wasn't all just a dream. I heard some faint footsteps come to an abrupt halt behind me. I turned around. In the shadows I saw a figure dressed in black. The distant streetlamp didn't give off too much light, so I couldn't see the figure too well. The person stepped out from the shadows. 

"You saw me," he said. 

I just stared at him. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Only whatever money or valuable possessions you just so happen to have at the moment."

I shook my head. "I have none," I explained, confused at his objective.

"Yeah right." He pulled out a gun. "Now be good and you won't get hurt. all right little girl?" He took a few steps forward with his gun pointed at me. 

Not thinking, I launched myself at him in fury and confusion at his trying to stop me and rob me, though I had nothing. I knocked him onto the ground and jammed my knee into his stomach, something I sometimes did to my mother when I was really mad at her. He yelped in pain and spit in my face. I wiped off his saliva with my hands. Dropping his gun, he grabbed my arms and tried to throw me off. Without knowing what else to do, I bit his cheek as hard as I could. He screamed and dug his fingernails into my skin. I bit even harder, tasting his salty blood in my mouth. I let go of his face and kneed him in the stomach again. As he released my arms to nurse his face, I got up and ran over to where he had dropped his gun. I picked it up and pointed it at him. He stopped his scrambling and held up one hand in surrender and used the other to hold his bleeding cheek. I could feel the blood running down my arms from where he had dug his nails into. 

"Stay put!" I told him. "Stay where you are and don't follow me, and, and I won't shoot you." My hands shook and I realized I didn't know how to use the gun. 'But he doesn't know that,' I thought. I was scared. I stared at the man. I could see that he was trembling and scared too. He didn't look very old. Probably only fifteen years old. Still only a boy. With his height and deep voice, he could pass for someone of late twenties or early thirties.

When I saw that he wasn't going to make any sudden movements or pleas for mercy, I slowly backed away. Then I turned and ran. This wasn't turning out like I had expected. I didn't know what to expect, but certainly not this. 'If my own mother and some random stranger were so cruel to me, then perhaps the whole world is,' I thought. 

The world around me started to spin as I ran, faster and faster. Just then, I heard two gunshots. After the first gunshot, I felt something hit my back so hard and with so much pain that I fell down and lay stunned in blistering agony. After the second gunshot, I heard the familiar sound of the boy's scream. 'What a coward', I thought. 'He screamed as he died.' Then, the world went black.

* * *

Drip, drip, drip. The sound of dripping water was the first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness. Next I regained my sense of smell. No...that wasn't water dripping, it was blood. I could recognize its smell. I still couldn't feel yet, but it sounded close by. 'My blood,' I figured. I opened my eyes. I saw a man standing over me with a knife. He was cutting open a pocket in the skin of my right arm. Even though I couldn't feel anything from my shoulders down, the sight sickened me. I wanted to vomit, but I didn't have the energy. I looked at the man standing over me cutting my arm open. He was definitely not the robber boy from last night. This man was older. Much older. He looked about sixty or so. He glanced over at me.

"So, you are awake, little one," he said.

"Yes," I tried to mumble, but it came out as a moan.

"You are probably wondering what you are doing here and why I am cutting your arm open, aren't you?"

I nodded, sort of dazed.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

I nodded again.

"I will tell you later."

I gave and exasperated groan. 'How typical,' I thought. 'First, I spend several hours sawing at bars with a nail file. Then, I get attacked by some random stranger. Then I'm shot by only Heaven knows who, and now I'm lying here with some strange old man cutting into my arm, and he won't even tell me why.' I sighed at the thought. 

I looked over at my arm. The man was finished cutting the pocket. Now he was wiping away the excess blood and putting a small disk into the pocket. Then he proceeded to sew my arm back up. I watched in amazement as the needle went in and out of my bloody skin and I didn't feel a thing. I noticed the scabs on my arms from earlier. I scowled at the thought of that boy. 

The old man suddenly spoke. "He's dead."

"Who? How?" I asked, already knowing the answer. 

"That young boy who shot you. Poor fool."

'So that was what hit me,' I thought. 'A bullet. He must've had two guns then.' I was too tired to make my mind process the information into sense.

"Go back to sleep," the old man instructed. "I will give you more information in the morning when you wake up. But for now, get some rest."

I hesitated for a moment, but I figured that since I had no idea as to where I was or how to leave, I should listen to the man. I didn't have anything else to lose. I relaxed and closed my eyes. I could feel feeling returning to the rest of my body. I opened on eye to find the old man gone. My arm and back hurt. The severe pain was unbelievable. I breathed in through my teeth as the old man walked back into the room with an hypodermic needle.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Well, this shot should kill the pain enough so you can get some decent rest."

I felt the needle prick into my skin and felt the liquid spread like a ripple in a pond throughout my body. The pain quickly subsided. I felt myself relaxing again and falling asleep. I closed my eyes. The hard, cushion-less, pillow-less bed I was laying on wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than the hard, cold, stone floor in the basement of my mother's house. At least the bed was warm. I heard the click of a lightswitch and felt the room grow dark. I let the darkness soothe me and calm my jumping senses. I slowly drifted into a quiet, peaceful, long-wanted, dreamless sleep.

2: Fall

I woke up. The pain had left me. I sat up and moved my arm. My muscles were tense. I examined my arm. No marks of the stitches or disk embedded in my skin were visible. Was last night even real? I rubbed my eyes. I looked around the room. Nope. It was real alright. I stood from the bed. Bed? I didn't fall asleep in a real bed. I had been moved to a bed in an entirely different room while I was sleeping. I studied my hands and arms again. All my wounds were gone. The dirt was gone too. I was clean and was wearing new clothes; a white tank top with a denim jacket and black jeans with a red-orange bandanna tied around my arm. I studied the room more closely. It looked similar to the other room. White, windowless walls. Only this room was more... cozy. I saw a mirror. I walked across the room to it. I looked at my hair. It was clean too, but... different. Instead of waist long and light brown, it was cropped short except for one lock of hair on both sides of my head. For the most part, my hair was now black. The locks were a dark purple-blue. I gasped in surprise. 'Who... why?' I thought. I ran my fingers through my hair. It wasn't that bad anyway. I kinda liked it. At least I wasn't bald. It could've been worse that way. I made a pouty face in the mirror. It looked funny. I made a different face. It was funny too. I laughed and made some more faces.

"Ahem," a voice said.

I turned around, startled.

"Making friends with the mirror?" it was the old man from last night.

I felt my face redden and I looked down in embarrassment. 

"So, what do you think of your hair?"

"It's, uhh, interesting... I like it."

"Good, good. Would you like to eat something?"

Eat? Food? Of course! My eyes lit up and I nodded furiously.

"Well then m'lass, let us eat." He led me out of the room.

After I had settled down eating some pancakes and doughnuts I started with the many questions I had. 

"So, uh, who are you? Why'd you save me? This food isn't poisoned is it? Whaddya want with me?" I asked with bits of food flying out of my mouth.

I dabbed it up and continued to wolf the food down greedily while the old man answered. "My name is Dr. Gero. I have my reasons for saving you. No, the food is not poisoned, and you will find out soon enough what I want with you. Now, is there more, or can I ask you some questions?"

I swallowed a mouthful of syrupy pancake and nodded. " Go ahead."

"Alright. What's your name little girl?" The way he asked it was weird. It was like the answer didn't really matter to him, but he asked it anyway.

"Nano. Nano Prent."

"Nano, eh? As in nano-second?"

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered between gulps of orange juice. "Hey. What was up with that disky thingy you put in my arm an all the cutting and stuff last night, huh?"

"Last night? That was a week ago."

I dropped my fork. "A WEEK?! I was out for a week? Geeze! What was in that injection? What else did you do to me?"

Dr. Gero chuckled evilly. "Haven't you noticed anything different about yourself, besides your hair?"

Come to think of it, my weight seemed heavier than before. I let my hand relax and it dropped like a dead bird shot on a cold day. I picked up my orange juice glass and squeezed it. It shattered instantly, leaving my hand sticky and wet. I looked up at Dr. Gero, puzzled and scared.

He laughed again, not caring about my fear.

"What did you do to me?!" I shrieked.

"Nothing really. Merely encased your bones with metal so they are unbreakable, and extracted half of your blood and replaced them with circuts and wires among other things." he replied.

"What?! You took out all my blood and turned me into Inspector Gadget and you say it's nothing?"

"Not all of your blood. Only half of it. And you're not quite Inspector Gadget. I have greater things in store for you than that."

"Well, why didn't you just take out all of my blood and get it over with, huh?!"

"You still need some blood, because you still have your heart and your heart needs blood . Soon enough, I will extract both. I am not done with you yet."

I lost my appetite. I suddenly felt nausious. I leaned over and vomited.

He just laughed. "You don't need to eat because you don't need food as fuel anymore. You only felt hungry because you are still part human."

"What... what d'you mean?" I asked.

"You are now an experiment. A cyborg in the making. If your transformation is successfull, then I will make many more like you. All for the soul purpose of killing my greatest enemy. Except for you. You will help me with my creations."

"A cyborg?"

"Yes. Cyborg. Android. Artifitial Human. Whatever you want to call yourself, although Android and Artificial Human would be incorrect. A cyborg is a human with implanted or added metal and machine parts. And android is a being made completely out of metal and machinery. But Android sounds better, don't you think? So let's just stick with that, eh? What would you prefer to be called?."

"Nano," I said. "I want to call myself Nano. I am too human! I will not be your android."

"No, no child. It is too late. You are no longer human at all, but now my creation; my experiment. And the name 'Nano' just won't do for an android. An android doesn't deserve a real name. A simple number will do just fine. Since you are my first, my trial and experiment, you shall be called 'Zero'."

"No! You cannot take away my name! Zero is just the same as being called Worthless or Stupid." I said, thinking of how my mother called me thoes names. "No, I will always have a name. It will always be Nano. Call me what you want, but I will always know that I have a real name."

"Wrong. But in one way you are correct. As of now, you are worthless. But later on you might be worth something, if you prove yourself to be. I shall erase your memory of your name and past. That way you will not bother me with this 'I have a name' nonesense."

Erase my memories. Hmm. That didn't sound too bad... I didn't want to remember my past anyway. If he erased my memory, then it wouldn't matter what my name was. Nano Prent was the name of my weak abused self. The name of that pathetic fool who let her mother throw her around like a dirty sock. In becoming an android, I could be strong. "Alright," I confirmed. "Do it."

"Are you sure?" Dr. Gero asked, startled at my sudden agreement. He smiled evilly again when I nodded yes. "Then I will complete your new self."

* * *

I stood shakily under the machine that would erase my past and set my future in motion. Did I really want this? Did I really want to have my humanity, memories, and name taken away from me? It was too late now. As an android, death would not come easily for me. I wouldn't age physically. I would be forever young. Dr. Gero promised that I would have great power and strength. I would learn how to use it and show people that I wasn't worthless and weak. I could hear the hum of the machine starting up. I closed my eyes. Dr. Gero was saying something, but I couldn't hear distinctly. I had lost myself in the hum and vibration of the machine. Soon, I would be an indestructable machine too. 'Do I seem small and helpless now, mother? Do I? Do I?' I could forget my horrible past and my mother and the beatings... and... and...


	2. Part Two: Trent Namisaki

Revenge is Best Served Cold

Part Two: Trent Namisaki

1: Search

I slammed the door. Suko and I never usually fought this much. She just didn't understand some things. Neither did Mom or Dad. Of course they wouldn't understand. They're the cause of all this. They weren't around much, always on business trips and going to parties. They never invited me or Suko. When they invited guests over, Suko and I were expected to act perfectly, or else there would be hell to pay afterwards. Being slapped and kicked and they would tell how many ways they could disinherit us if we weren't more grateful was usually what they did. Sometimes they would be nice to us, but that was a rare moment in time. The maids and the butler were kind, so why weren't my parents the same? Because they were rich snobs. That's why. I was becoming so depressed, that I would ask Mom or Dad for some extra money for something that was being sold at school. They thought that it was popcorn or concert tickets or something, so they almost always gave me the money. They didn't know it was drugs. Neither did Suko. Until now. She found out I was drowning my depression in drugs. She told me how stupid I was and how if Mom or Dad ever found out they would hurt me in uncountable ways. I told her it didn't matter anymore; they didn't love or care about us anyway. The kids at school only like me when I buy their drugs and pay them. They don't care about me after that. Nobody did. Except for Suko. She could sometimes understand. She was strong. We were so close. She was telling me how she'd had a very bad day, so I asked her if she wanted some weed. That's when she got mad and started yelling. I just looked down then walked off. When she came after me, I just ran. 

I heard a knock. "Yeah." I said.

"Trent?" It was Suko.

"What do you want?" 

"Can I come in?" she asked, her voice soft.

I paused. What did she want now? To lecture me some more? "I guess. It's a free country after all."

The door opened. A teary eyed Suko walked into my room. Crap, I made her cry again. I turned away. "What?" I asked.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. But I still don't forgive you for what you're doing."

I hated it when she cried. She only cried when something was really wrong. I like it better when she was strong. I could look up to her that way. But even now, she's not afraid to cry or show her feelings... at least not to me anyway. "I'm sorry too, I guess."

"So, are you gonna stop?"

"I don't know. I've tried. But... I think I'm officially addicted now."

"But... please, try again. Please."

I clenched my fist. I did try. Several times. But I couldn't stay away from it. I walked over to my TV and turned it and my Nintendo 64 on. My racing game was already in. I selected my favourite car and track and pushed go. I was in second place so far. Wasn't good enough. I zoomed on faster and faster. First place. I was soon far ahead of the other cars. 

"So that's it," Suko said.

I almost dropped the controller, I was startled. I thought she had left.

"What's it?" I asked.

"You're just racing away from all your troubles and leaving them behind for others to fix. That's so selfish."

I hated it when she talked like this. "Yeah, well as the stupid kids at school say: I'm just a snobby rich kid."

"You're more than that, Trent. You don't have to be what they say. You used to like who you were. You used to be so self-confident and assured. What happened to that Trent?"

"I don't know. He died, I guess."

"Is that your answer for everything? 'I guess.' "

"I guess."

She threw her shoe at me. I dropped the controller this time and the other cars passed me up. I turned around to face her. She was laughing. I smiled. At least she wasn't crying anymore. "Maybe he will come back when he is ready," I told her.

"Good. One of the maids said dinner will be ready in a half hour, so don't go anywhere."

"Like I have anywhere to go."

Suko gave me a glare that could kill. I innocently smiled and nodded my head. She rolled her eyes and walked out. I sighed and returned my attention to my game. I selected another car and track and pressed go. The race started. I let some of the other cars get a head start. I counted to ten then zoomed on down the lane. Passing car after car after car. I thought about what Suko had said. Was I just racing away from everything? Was I just letting everyone else deal with my problems? Maybe I was. I couldn't tell. I crossed the finish line, but I kept on going. Second place just wasn't good enough. I raced again. I needed to be first. Needed to be the best. Why? Did I need to prove to my parents that I wasn't a complete loser? No. Who cared what they thought anyway? Did I? I didn't know. I rammed my car into the car ahead of me in rage at myself. I didn't even know what I was feeling or what I wanted or what I cared about. I didn't know anything about myself. I watched as the two flaming cars rolled over and over until they fell off a bridge. I thought of myself plunging into water. Handcuffed, unable to move, unable to breathe. No way out. I would die. No. I just couldn't. I couldn't do that. I turned off the TV and Nintendo. I heard that Dad was bringing over the guy he was trying to get some money from. I got ready for dinner. I wondered if I should be polite or if I should just not care anymore and act like a complete jerk. I combed my chin-length black hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. My parents hated how I had long hair and earrings. They made fun of me for "looking like a girl." No one else thought I looked like a girl. Only them. I did it to be different. To try and make myself unique and different from everyone else. Sometimes they all laughed because I was different, but I laughed at them for being all the same. I pulled on a black T-shirt over my white long-sleeved shirt. I put my gun holster around my waist. I didn't own a gun, but I hoped to soon. I liked this style. Once again, it was unique. And once again, everybody hated me for it. Well, not everybody. There was Suko. She didn't care. There were a few other random people at school who didn't really care either. But they didn't matter. I looked in the mirror. Somehow my brown eyes just didn't go with the rest of me. They just didn't look right. Neither did Suko's. I headed out my room to go wait for dinner. I still thought about the cars, falling down over the bridge, myself, falling into water, unable to escape. I savored the thought. Let it roll about in my mind like a child would a piece of candy, like I did with my drugs. Suicide. The word itself sounded like both paradise and hell. It made me tingle in pleasure, but sent frightening shivers down my spine at the same time. I was searching for a way out and this just might very well be the answer. I made a decision. If I acted like a jerk at dinner and my parents gave me crap about it after the guest had left, then I would know for certain. I would be sure they could care less whether I was alive and well or if I was dead. But, Suko... She was strong. She could learn to live without me. I reached the bottom of the stairs. Dad's guest had arrived early. My mother waved for me to come over to the group that consisted of her, Dad, Suko, and the guest. She put on a fake smile and introduced me and Suko.

"This, Dr. is my son Trent and his twin sister Suko. Both are seventeen years old. They are our pride and joy."

'Hardly,' I thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Namisaki," the guest said.

Suko and I smiled at each other as Mom scowled at the floor.

"Trent, did you have to wear that thing?" Dad asked pointing to my gun holster. "You swear like you're gonna need it, boy."

I hated it when he tried to humiliate me in front of people. I narrowed my eyes at him, folded my arms and looked away. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You finally came down from your racing games, I see," Mom commented, breaking the silence.

I gave her a wry smile and said sarcastically, "No, dear Mother, I was shaving my legs and making chicken sandwiches for everybody. Would you like me to bring them down?"

"Your leg hairs or the sandwiches?" Suko joked.

"Both." I said.

Mom gave me a look that said, "I'm gonna kill you later."

My dad elbowed me in the side and cleared his throat.

The guest just laughed. I smiled and took a bow.

"And just who is our guest tonight, dear Mother?" I asked, the sarcasm dripping off my words. 

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," the guest said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Gero, a scientist in need of... a partner."

The way he said the word "partner" bothered me. It was like he was just toying with the word, throwing it out there because it wasn't really what he meant. This man bothered me. Almost frightened me. There was something about him that I did not like one bit. I frowned and looked over at Suko, she felt the same way. 

"Well, now, let's go eat shall we? And not Trent's leg hair and chicken sandwiches. Hmm?" my father said, scooting everyone toward the dining room and motioning for one of the maids.

Dinner didn't go any better. Dr. Gero asked what Dad did for a living. He replied saying that he was with a storage company and the owner of several shopping malls. Dr. Gero then asked what he did in the storage company. I answered saying he was a shelf. Suko choked on her soup and Dad almost slapped me for that one. But he regained control of himself and politely corrected my answer by saying that he was the manager. Dinner progressed in that direction. Someone asking something or commenting on something and then me replying in some sarcastic way to embarrass the person. My parents gave me many "looks-of-death", but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. I was going to die tonight anyway. So I might as well have some fun before I go. Suko often kicked me underneath the table then mouthed the words "What are you doing?!" every time I said something rude. I just smiled each time. Except for the last time. I just looked at her and mouthed "It doesn't matter anymore." She just looked at me questioningly. I nodded to myself. It didn't really matter anymore. What they said to me, what I did. None of it mattered. I was going to die in a few hours anyway. I was going to... die.

2: Find

I ran. I didn't do anything but run. I ran as far away as I could. I was sick of it all. Of course, my parents gave me crap about the stuff I had pulled at dinner. Dr. Gero hadn't seemed to mind, but my parents were so angry. Suko just watched as they made their routinely what's-wrong-with-you-you-bratty-punk speech. Her face not giving any sign of support or sympathy, but she didn't look angry either. Just tired. She rolled her eyes at me when I looked at her while Dad was getting ready to slap me. They told me how I was such a nuisance and asked why I wasn't more like Suko. Of course. They just have to play favourites when they're pissed at me. I said that I wasn't into acting like a wimpy girl. As soon as I said that, Suko kicked me and ran from room. Dad said how of course I wasn't a wimpy girl. I was a wimpy, cowardly wuss of a man... No, not man. Boy. Just a boy. Just a little boy. Nothing more than an ignorant little boy. Never to become a man. Brat. Punk. Loser. Coward. Faggot. And worse names still that I don't want to remember. Those weren't even close to the even more horrible names that they called me.

I had my whole freaking family mad at me. Parents. And Suko. Oh well. Screw it all. It didn't matter anymore. They'd all be better off without me. Or... maybe worse. Yeah. When my suicide hit the news, they would have to explain why I did it. Of course they would make up something, some story of a kidnapping and how they were so heartbroken, but deep inside, they'd know it was all their fault. It would haunt them till the day they died and even after that while they're rotting in their graves, six feet under the ground. Beneath the dirt. Right where they belonged. But Suko... She was different. She was the closest person to me. My sister. My twin. She could almost understand me. Almost. That was the key word.

I ran. I left it all behind. I ran past the guards. Past the gate. Past the trees. There was a lake on our property, but I didn't want to do it there. It was too close. I stopped to catch my breath at the lake. I decided I'd do it at the lake in the park. It was a nice place. There were kids that would play tag and hide-&-seek there. Couples who would sit on the benches together or walk through the paths and carved their names into the trees. But it was dark now. Middle of the night; it was 3 am when I left out my window. So there weren't any kids or couples now. At least, I hoped not.

I slowed down as I got nearer to the park. I was getting really tired from running. I took out a pair of handcuffs as I walked. I was going to handcuff my self and fall into the lake. Drown. Nice and easy. Nothing complicated. It would take a while for anyone to find my body since swimming wasn't allowed in the lake. It didn't matter beacause I couldn't swim anyway. Just a rich boy who couldn't swim. 

I could see it. The park. I thought again of my savored word: suicide. Again, that tingle and the chill. Paradise and Hell. My hands shook. I could see the lake now. I stopped. Was this the right decision? Had I made the right choice? Of course I had. What other options were there? Running away had crossed my mind many times when I was little, but what would have been the point? I would still have to always live in fear of being caught or recognized by the cops from my picture on milk cartons, that is, if my parents ever even took the time to do that just to make it look like they cared, but they probably wouldn't have. No. Suicide was the only answer. Death. I smiled. Just another teenage suicide in this crazy mixed up universe of ours. No one would really notice. Not really. Well... Maybe one person. Again, Suko's face entered my mind. I kicked at the ground. Even when she wasn't present with me she could still haunt me with her innocent pleading face. The sad face when she begged me to give up drugs. 

I shook my head. A strand of hair came loose from my ponytail. I sighed and walked onward to the lake, looking at the beautiful white moon. The lake was barely visible. As I got there I stood on the sandy bank. I put my hand on a nearby bush. The flowers looked so pretty. I picked one and smelled it. 'The last flower I will ever smell,' I thought. I smiled and plucked the pale blue petals off the flower and threw them into the dark water. They made tiny ripples that glistened with the light of the moon and the streetlamps. It looked so beautiful. Almost too beautiful for words to even begin to describe. I wondered why it was so beautiful. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Was everything beautiful right before you died? I looked at my reflection in the water. Why couldn't my reflection be as beautiful as the ripples from the flower petals? I used to think I was beautiful. Or at least handsome, anyway. But that was back when I had self-confidence, not self-loathing. No, I had self-confidence now. I wasn't doing this because I hated myself; I was doing it beacuse I wanted to get away from it all. Get away so I could never come back. Or was I...

I held the remaining stem of the flower in my hand. I pulled the handcuffs back out of my pocket and put it on one if my wrists. Wrists. Most people just slit their wrists to die. But I didn't want that. I didn't want the pain. No pain. No blood. Only suffocation. The absence of air in my lungs. No air. I gulped a lungfull of air. It tasted good. Another thing that became pleasant before one died? I didn't know. Nor did I care. Not right then. 'Maybe later... no, there wouldn't be a later,' I told myself. I dropped the stem onto the ground and snapped the handcuff on my other wrist. I closed my eyes and turned around. Scooted to the edge of the bank. Took a deep breath. Then, I let my body just go limp. I fell backwards into the water. The icy water hit my back fiercely. I felt panic overcome me as I was covered completely with the freezing water. But I smiled and took another breath. My mouth and nose and lungs all filled with water and I gagged and struggled for air, flailing my handcuffed wrists about in the water. I saw a tint of red in the water. Blood. No. No. Don't struggle. No. Stop. This is what you wanted, isn't it Trent? Don't you want to die? Yes. No. I didn't know. I wasn't sure anymore, but it was too late. I wanted to cry. But the world was going away. Or I was going away from it. Whichever one was correct. Just before the world left or I left the world, I felt a strong grip yank my shirt and pull me up from the water. 'Some wandering cop must have seen me,' I thought. But the face I saw before I passed out wasn't the face of a burly old cop, but the face of a young girl.

* * *

She only looked about ten years old or so. Blue eyes. Short black hair with one dark purple-blue lock hanging from each behind ear. She wore a white tank top, a denim jacket, black jeans and a red-orange bandana tied around her arm. After I had coughed up all the water in my lungs I just sat there. I didn't know what to say to her or how to act, or even how to feel. Should I be grateful to her for saving me from myself? Should I be angry with her for stopping me from "fixing" my problems? I couldn't look at her. I just sat there on the park bench next to her looking at the lake that I had almost made my grave. I could feel her eyes looking at me. No, it was more like she was scanning me, examining me. Curious, but at the same time, not. I guess she noticed I was shivering from the cold because she had put her lacket around my shoulders. I felt embarrassed. I had been rescued from a suicide attempt by a little girl and now she was keeping me warm with her jacket. Why had she pulled me out? How did she? It seemed she had done it with ease, and yet she was only about ten. I hadn't seen anyone else around that could have pulled me out. No one strong. Maybe she was just strong. She didn't look buff or anything. She just looked like a normal ten year old girl. But... Something was different about her. I couldn't tell, but something was. I found myself staring and looked away.

"Why were you doing it?" the girl asked.

I hesitated in answering her. Why should I spill my life story to some strange little girl that I didn't even know? But for some reason, I answered her. "Because my life sucks."

She nodded, lost in thought.

"Why did you pull me out?" I asked.

This time it was her turn to hesitate. She looked uncertain as how to answer, as if she weren't allowed to say, like it was a secret that no one was allowed to know about. "I... I can't explain it."

"And why not?" If someone was going to stop me from doing something that I obviously wanted to do, I wanted an answer.

"There are several reasons why," she said. "Most of which I cannot begin to explain, for they are too complicated for me to explain, much less for me to understand, and I can understand many things. I would explain it to you except for that fact and the fact that even I am not entirely sure what caused me to pull you out of death's grasp."

Was this really how all ten year old girls talked? The way she spoke and the way she acted didn't seem like ten year old behavior to me. Suko acted like any ten year old girl but was still more mature than I was. Maybe girls really did mature faster than boys. But Ms. Black-and-Blue-Hair, here, seemed more like she was my age and not really ten after all. I looked closely at her. She looked exactly ten years old. Not a year older, not a year less. 

"How old are you?" I asked suspiciously.

She smiled shyly. "Why I'm only a little girl, sir," she said mockingly in a high pitched voice as she batted her eyelashes sarcastically.

I scowled at her. So maybe I was some loser spoiled rich boy whose "loving" parents didn't care about him, but I'm not an idiot.

"Why would you think my age is any different than how I look?"

"I dunno. You just don't seem like a little girl. You're... uh, different I guess." Stupid loser of an answer, but I didn't know how else to phrase it.

"Well..." her smile faded. "I don't exactly know you, but maybe that's all the more reason why I should tell you."

"Huh?"

"It might sound sort of bizarre..."

"Try me."

"I'm not human."

I burst out laughing and fell off the bench. With tears flying off my face I laughed and laughed and cried. I managed to get a clear look at the girl through my misty eyes. She was not the least bit amused. She looked dead serious.

"I told you," she said.

I sat up back on the bench. "Well, you know what? My life sucks okay?" I screamed. "I came here tonight to end my freaking misery and then you come along and just grab me out of the water and then try to explain why by telling me you're not human! Now I don't know about you, but to me that just sounds rediculous and makes me so royally pissed off more than I already am."

All she said in reply was, "How does your life suck?"

I don't know what happened, but everything just crashed down on me at that moment. I broke down crying. How did my life suck? Was I really all that bad off? I thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," I replied in between sobs.

"Why? Try to explain to me."

I hesitated. She was some weird girl I didn't even know and she wanted me to spill out my heart and soul and life to her? That was the question that should have went through my mind, but it didn't. I told her. I told her everything. I told her how rich I was and how I had everything I could ever want and more except for one thing. Love. No one loved me. My parents surely didn't love me. They gave me all I asked for but only to shut me up. I had almost no friends except for the people who sold me drugs but they only paid any attention to me when I gave them money. Suko. She had never said, "I love you Trent," like a sister would in a normal family. I could tell she cared about me, but... 

I stopped around there. I sat there on the bench next to the girl hugging my knees. I felt so pathetic. So stupid. I rocked back and forth trying to calm myself and stop the tears.

"You have beautiful eyes," she said and pulled stray hair out of my eyes. 

That startled me and made me nervous. I pushed her hand away and scooted over. "Please... don't," I mumbled and wiped tears from my eyes.

"What I told you was true. I am no-"

I stopped her. I wasn't going to listen to that crap. But she had other ideas.

"Please. I listened to you. Listen to me."

I nodded, scowling and studying the ground. 'What the heck,' I thought. I was too tired to complain, so why woul I sit and listen to some psycho little girl? Why not. That was the only answer I could come up with.

She looked sort of hesitant as I probably looked before I told her of my troubles. "I'm not human. I am a cyborg." She must have seen the confused look on my face because she added, "An android or an artifical human would be incorrect terms but Android sounds better, don't you think?. Anyway. I look exactly like a human. That is because I used to be one. I have no memory of when I was. Apparently I met this man who turned me into what I am when I was about ten years old, hence why I look like I am ten years old. I cannot say why he did it. All I can say is he needed to test it on someone or something. By 'it' I mean making an artifical human, an android and cyborg. I was only his experiment. I don't really have a name but I am called Zero, or Android Zero or Cyborg Zero, whichever you prefer. I suggest the first choice. Anyway, since I was a success, he made many more of my kind and I helped him. About sixteen more androids and cyborgs were built, I believe. All for one sole purpose. I cannot say what that is either. 

Each android and cyborg was built differently. Some were created from actual humans, a cyborg, like I was, and others were made just entirely out of machine, an android. Each had different capabilities, specialities, looks, and weaponry but, as I said, had one goal programmed into their minds. I had that goal programmed into my brain, or what's left of it, too. But I overcame my programming. Instead of being some mindless robot doing the commands of his, or in my case, her master, I regained some of my human feelings again. I became curious about what my past was. I always asked my creator, but he never answered. He always said that I wouldn't want to know. He said that I had wanted to become his experiment and had wanted my memory erased. I never knew whether to believe him or not. My past cannot have been that bad, could it have been?" she looked at me as if I might somehow have the answer.

"I... I don't know," I answered softly.

"No," she sighed. "You wouldn't."

I didn't know whether to believe her or not. Was this really the truth about her? Or was she just making this up for kicks? I didn't know. I didn't really care either. I decided to believe her. I figured, why not? That had been my answer for most everything lately, so why not this too?

"So. Um, how old are you really?" I asked. I wanted to find out. Who knew? She might have been twenty years older than me for all I knew.

"I am seventeen years old. That is if you count that I was ten when this happened to me. So, it has been seven years. A long seven years," her eyes looked distant, or as distant as the eyes of an android could get. Her eyes were a cold, icy blue that could pierce through anyone's heart. 

'What was her creator's purpose for her?' I wondered. Was it for something evil? She certainly looked evil enough. But there was a certain softness about her that decreased that evil air that surrounded her. I wondered what she would have looked like if she hadn't been turned into what she was now. She would definately have been pretty, probably even beautiful. She was pretty now. I found myself staring at her. I blushed and looked away. It felt weird. She was the same age as me, but she looked like a little girl. 

She smiled at me. She took the red-orange bandana off her arm and handed it to me. "Here."

"What's this for?"

"It's for you."

"Well I can see that, but why?"

"Just because. Because I have found someone else who is searching."

"Yeah," I took the bandana. "So now we have both found something, er, someone. Whether or not it is what we're searching for, I don't know, but it's something."

"So, maybe we don't have to search anymore."

"Maybe. I guess."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

We sat there on the park bench in the dark. My clothes were still wet. I was still shivering and wearing Zero's jacket around my shoulders, but I din't really mind so much anymore. She was lost, just like me. Maybe I had found a friend. I hoped so. I held the bandana in my hands and looked at it. One more thing I could annoy my parents with; they hated orange. That is, if I went back. Maybe Zero was right. Maybe I didn't need to search for a way out. Maybe all I needed was someone who understood me somewhat. Someone like her. I looked over at her. Yes. I had found someone who understood me. Maybe she didn't have the exact same experiences as me, she didn't have the same kind of life as me, but she could understand me. I don't know how, but I could tell that she could.

I stared at the lake that had almost let me take my life. I stared at the dirty handcuffs on the ground. I stared at the cuts on my wrists from the handcuffs. The dried blood. My damp skin. I looked at the moon. It was still beautiful. So was the air. Was it Zero who made it that way? I looked over at her. She was watching a pair of ducks swimming in the water. I smiled. Even if it wasn't her, it didn't matter. I was, for the first time in a long, long while, content. No nagging little voice of self-loathing or hatred for the rest of the world. I was happy.

Zero looked over and studied my face. She moved her small hand over to the back of my head. She gave me a look that asked 'May I?' I nodded and she pulled the rubber band out and let my hair fall gently around my face. She watched me for a while as I sat there pondering things. I felt tired. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment and it all went away...

3: Cinnamon Altoids and Chapstick

There's a little boy, his back is turned toward me. I can't see him very clearly; it's all a blur. I can't see his face. Imove closer. I see another boy. My age. I can't see his face either. The older boy moves over to the little boy. He takes out a gun. No. He's going to fire it. He fires. The boy lies bleeding on the ground. Dead. No! What sick freak is doing thins. I look at the face. No. A white light shines on it. I tremble. No. The older boy is... Me. No! Why would I kill a little boy? No... No. NO!! I scream and run over to the other me. 

"You're not me!" I shout.

He smiles a cold smile. "Yes, I am."

His eyes are blue. How can that be? Mine are brown. "But we don't have the same eyes, you can't be me. And besides, I'm not a killer."

"Ah, but Trent, you--"

Blue-eyed evil Trent is cut off by something poking me sharply in the side.

I sat up. Breathing heavily, I looked around. It was only a dream.

I looked over to see what woke me up. It was one of Suko's cats. The brown and white one, Chapstick.

"You stupid cat! You're not supposed to bite people!" I threw my pillow at it and it ran away. 

How'd it get in my room anyway? I locked my door right before I left when I went to go... Wait, I was alive. How? 

That girl. But how did Iget home? The last thing I remember is resting my head on her shoulder. Did I fall asleep? Well, obviously. Did she take me home? I guess.

"So, where were you last night, Trent?" Suko asked.

I turned around. "Huh?"

"Where were you? I know," she looked slyly at me, "You snuck out to see a girl, huh?"

I didn't want to tell her that I had wanted to commit suicide, so I played along. "Uh-huh."

"I knew it!" she smiled. "Trent's got a girlfriend!" she said in a sing-song voice.

"How so 'third grade'," I made valley-girl air quotes to make her laugh.

She said in a valley-girl accent, "Ohmygosh! Like, Trent's got a bloody girlfriend. Like, whatever, ya know?"

I laughed. "Okay, that's going a bit overboard, don't you think?"

In her normal voice, "But really, what's her name?"

Boing. Name. If I told her about Zero she'd probably go berserk. I fumbled for a name. "Um, R-raven," was all I could come up with.

"Raven, huh? Last name?"

"Uhh... last name?"

"You don't know her last name?"

"Well, no. I just met her."

She waved her hand, "Lame excuse."

"Yeah, well whatever, Suko." I plop back down and throw the covers over me.

I heard her sigh and leave the room.

Just as I was falling back asleep, something landed on my stomach.

"OUCH!!" I sat up to see Cinnimon, another one of Suko's three cats, take one look at me and run off. "Stupid cats!" I yelled.

Suko laughed.

"What's your problem? I just want to sleep."

"You've been sleeping long enough. It's already one in the afternoon."

"Then wake me up at two thirty."

She grabbed my blanket and let the cold air hit me like the water did last night. "No. Get up, Morning Glory Monkey Shine. I'm making you do stuff today."

"Oh really?" I was getting annoyed. "Like what?"

"Well for starters, your gonna eat. Then you are gonna go find Altoid."

"Why do I have to find your stupid cat? It's not my fault if it takes joy in hiding from you, I didn't make you that ugly." She glared at me. "If you don't want one of the maids to do it, then do it yourself."

"No. Your too lazy and depressed and you need to get up off your butt and do something, so that's why I am making you do this."

I sighed. Whatever. I was too tired to argue.

Suko went on making a list of all the things she was going to have me do. I lost her after she said she was going to make me help her burn some cds.

She was great. She was one of the two people who could actually understand me.

Zero was the other.

Zero. I wondered where she was right then. 

But what about that dream? What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Or was it just a nightmare? I hoped it was just a dream. I hoped that I wouldn't end up killing a little boy with a smile on my face. Who was that little boy anyway?

* * *

After helping Suko and doing her bidding I went in search of Neeson. Neeson was the guy from school who sold me the drugs. School was out so it was kind of difficult to find him. I looked at all the usual spots; car park in back of the laundromat, the tattoo place downtown, and a bunch of other grungy places he liked to hang out at. I couldn't find him. I needed something. Weed maybe. Or whatever else he had and would sell to me.

After two hours of looking I finally gave up. I sat down on a bench. I looked around to see where my wanderings had taken me. The park. The lake. I chuckled silently to myself and shook my head. I was sitting on the same bench that I had sat on last night with Zero. I wanted to see her again. I wondered where she was. Where she lived and all that.

I sat there for a while before I got up. I walked around town and found myself at Wal-Mart. I browsed around, not really looking for anything in particular. I saw a rack of mints. I picked up a box of Altoids. They were cinnamon flavoured. I smiled. I could get them for Suko. You know, kind of a joke, in honour of her cats. I went looking for some chapstick to complete the little joke. I'd do it to make up for being such a jerk. Maybe she'd like it. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, I needed to spend the money I had saved to buy stuff from Neeson. I had promised Suko earlier that I would give up drugs. That's why I wasn't so bummed out when I couldn't find Neeson. It was a good thing, I guess. I don't know why I had gone to look for him in the first place.

I opened the box of Altoids and smelled the cinnamon. It made my mouth water. I was hungry. Suko said she'd treat me to a good dinner if I didn't do anything stupid that day.

I hope she didn't know why I had really snuck out last night. I looked at the chapstick and thought of Chapstick the cat. That little devil. He and the other cats were always getting into trouble. I smiled, thinking of how much I was sort of like those cats. Graceful, yet full of trouble, but being able to get away with murder almost every time.

Almost.

I paid for the Altoids and chapstick and headed for home.

4: Dreams

The bottle of whiteout tipped over. The white liquid spilled. It spread like a disease over the table. The aroma rose and mingled with the air. I caught a whiff of it and smiled. I laid my head down on the table, far away enough from the white pool so it wouldn't get on my face or in my hair, but close enough so that each time I breathed in, the toxic smell of the whiteout filled my mouth, nose, and lungs.

I smiled. Who needed Neeson's crap anyway? Why waste my money on his useless drugs when I had a bottle of whiteout at my use?

I had promised Suko that I'd give up drugs. So I did. But I could still get high. This wasn't drugs. It was different. It felt better this way. I wouldn't break my promise, but I could still get what I needed.

I kept my head on the table and kept breathing in the whiteout fumes like a drowning man would air until I passed out.

He's here again. The little boy. His back is still turned towards me. I can see him a little clearer now. Black hair. That's all I can make out. I open my mouth to try and call out to him but nothing comes out. I try to go closer. I reach a certain point and can't go any further. My body won't move.

The other one comes. The older boy. He is me, but who is the little boy? 

Evil Me smiles. He walks over to the little boy. Oh, no. Not again. Oh, please, not again. Don't do it, don't kill him. 

The gun is raised.

The trigger pulled.

The boy falls.

Blood. 

It pools around him.

I feel something warm. I look down at my shirt.

Blood.

But I wasn't shot. How could this be?

Evil Trent looks at me. He walks towards me. "So nice of you to come again, Trent," he says.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"You mean, what do you want?"

"I," I reply, "don't want anything. No, that's not true. I want you to go away."

"I can't. You see," he smiles his unfeeling smile again, "I am not here."

Huh? What does he mean?

Sensing my thoughts, he replies, "Oh, Trent. You just don't understand, do you?"

"No, apparently I don't understand."

"I am not here because I don't exist. Yet."

Yet? What does he mean, yet?

"There's no sense in trying to hide your thoughts. Since I am... or, rather, was or even will be, you, I can hear your thoughts."

No.

He laughs. It's an unfeeling laugh. His blue eyes are cold.

Blue eyes. They look like...

***

"Ya know?" I was poked in the arm.

"Huh?" I sat up in my seat, startled.

"Don't you think?" some guy next to me said.

"What?"

"Don't you think that's how it is?" the guy asked.

"What do you mean? Who are you again?" I was confused.

"Well, I've only been sitting here talking to you for the past fifteen minutes. You do seem kind of spaced out so maybe you weren't listening to a word of what I've been saying," he looked rather annoyed.

"Well, I've been having a rather confusing past few days so if you'd repeat everything it would help me a whole lot."

He sighed and took a breath, "My name is Ritinukanaho."

"Come again?"

"Okay, so you are listening."

I nodded. 

"No, my name is not Ritinukanaho, it's Joe Nana."

I laughed, "Joanna?"

"No, you idiot. Joe. Nana. Joe, first name. Nana, last name."

"Oh, I was wondering," I was trying to calm down my laughter.

"Yes, well, anyway. Moving on with life," Joe ran a hand through his sandy brown hair and pushed his geeky glasses back up his nose with his pinky finger. How'd I get stuck talking to a dork in a coffee shop anyway? I recalled leaving the house to go looking around town for Zero out of boredom and stopping at Starbucks after two hours of no success and then sitting down with Joe because his table had the only available seat. Naturally, the geeky guy started up a conversation in which I quickly lost interest so I just zoned out and let him listen to himself ramble on about... whatever he was rambling on about. Then I finally zapped out of my little trance. Now I would have to listen to Joe's little speech.

"So, as I was saying, elementary school is all the three c's: candy, crayons, and cooties. Middle school is about learning to fit in. Then high school freshmen year is dreaming about living past that first year without getting tourtured by the seniors. Sophomore year is all about realizing you lived past your first year of high school and gloating about it. Senior year is all about having some last minute fun by torturing the freshmen."

"What about the juniors? What do we dream about?" I asked. I didn't really care but I figured, what the heck? I'm bored. Play along with Joe the Dork.

"Lunch."

"Huh, lunch? Why lunch?"

"Because we're hungry? I don't know. Does it look like I know everything?"

I didn't know if he really wanted me to answer that or not so I just laughed. "Well, I have to leave and get on with my life."

"Where are you going?" Joe asked. Nosy little freak.

"Somewhere you're not. See you later Joanna."

"Joe Nana! Joe, first name. Nana, last name."

"Yeah, whatever Tarzan," I stood up and threw away my half finished cup of coffee. I put my hands in my pockets and walked out of Starbucks. 

I didn't know why I had set out to look for Zero in the first place. I didn't even know where she lived or where she went after last night. But I needed something to do that felt useful. Looking for Zero felt useful. Everything about her made me feel nice, good. But at the same time, she was scary. Her eyes... Icy blue. Cold eyes. Unfeeling, and yet I loved looking into them, but shuddered each time. 

Those eyes...

My head snapped up. Evil Trent's eyes were like... Nah, couldn't be. Even if they were like Zero's, it didn't really mean anything, did it? It was just a dream. Right?

Just a dream among many other dreams.

Right?

***

I fumbled through the box of crayons looking for the black one to colour in Evil Trent's hair. I'd heard somewhere that drawing pictures can help you figure things out. So I figured I'd try and figure out my dream by doing just that. Maybe it would work and maybe it wouldn't. It didn't really matter, I was just bored. The dream bothered me so I figured why not kill some time by doing something that wouldn't suck the life out of me and wouldn't get me in trouble with my parents or cause Suko to lecture me about morality.

I'd started out by scetching the mysterious little boy; sitting there with his back to me. His hair was also long and black, just like E.T's and mine, so I used the same crayon that I used to colour E.T's hair to colour his. Then I had moved on to draw E.T: Evil Trent. I scowled as I drew him, the freak. What nerve he had in saying that he was me. I was definately not him. I never had been and I never would be.

Maybe he wasn't really me, or I him, but maybe he's the third in a set of triplets consiting of him, me, and Suko. Maybe. It was a thought. But then why would he say that we are the same? Er, would be, or whatever? He just didn't make sense. I tried over and over again to make sense of it but nothing worked. I wondered if this drawing thing would work.

I drew E.T's cruel smile. His cruel, indifferent, depressing eyes. I etched in his cold, clear-blue eyes. I thought it ironic how those eyes, so bloodthirsty and savage yet so calm and almost pleasant, could look like Zero's eyes. But why was I so fascinated by their eyes? Why did I even care if their eyes were the same blue or if one had brown eyes and the other had neon orange or fluorescent purple? Why did it matter to me? Does it have some sort of meaning or am I just paranoid? 

The crayon snapped in half because of the pressure I was putting on it. I jumped from the surprise. I looked down at my shaking hand. I questioned my thoughts again. I wasn't usually the type who dwelled on any one subject too long. I shook my head. The smell of the crayons was making me sick, I never did like crayons but I didn't feel like looking for anything else to use for colouring. Besides, I didn't want to ask a maid to do it because I didn't want them to know what I was doing. But then again, who cares what they think anyway?

I sighed and prayed that I would figure the stupid dream out soon. It was too nerve wracking and required way too much thought for my sleepy and drug loving head to handle.

5: Love-drugs 

I sat on the bench near the lake where I had met Zero a few says before with my head in my hands. Ever since the day I met her, three days ago, I'd felt even more depressed. Partly because I had made a fool of my father in front of Dr. Gero, who had returned to dine with us again, and Dad had beat the crap out of me once more. For some reason Mom wasn't too particularly angry with me this time, in fact I would almost say she was on the verge of being sympathetic. 

I was depressed partly because I couldn't figure out what the heck that stupid, haunting dream meant. And finally, partly because I missed Zero. I don't know why, I just did. Even though I had only known her for a few hours, I needed her. I wanted her. I... I... I... loved her; I think. Being away from her was almost as bad as when Suko had made me stop drugs, cold turkey.

Yes. I needed Zero like I needed drugs. That need, that want. But the love... The love was different. I didn't love Zero like I loved drugs. No, my love for Zero was real love. True and pure. But at the same time, she was my addiction. My rush and thrill. Zero was my drug. I needed to see her again.

I shivered from a sudden chill. I felt eyes watching me, as if they were scanning, looking for something. As I sat there with my head still resting in my hands I felt fabric being wrapped around my shoulders and a familiar pair of small, cold hands gently tap my arm. I looked up expecting to see the sweet face and the clear, icy blue eyes and the black-blue hair of my little not-as-she-seems friend. My expectations were correct. I smiled when I saw Zero.

"I've been looking for you," I said lamely, "but I couldn't find you."

"Where were you looking?" she asked.

"Practically everywhere," I replied.

"Well, all you needed to do was look here. It took you a while but you finally made it."

I smiled, feeling my cheeks turn scarlet. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So, how've you been, Trent?" she asked.

My smile faded. She always asked questions that I didn't really want to answer. Why did she do that? Sometimes it was as if she did it on purpose; like she knew what she was doing. But, as usual, I answered her anyway. "It's just business as usual at the Namisaki mansion."

"And that's.... bad?"

"Well, considering what I told you last time, yeah, I'd say it's bad," I snarled.

"Calm down, I was only trying to start a polite conversation," Zero retorted in her monotone voice.

Yeah, it's weird. I loved her, but she had that way of getting under my skin. But I didn't really mind that so much. It just added more to her appeal. "But I think I'm finally getting used to it since it has been seventeen years and all," I said, sarcastically.

"My, my. Aren't we vicious today?" she observed.

"Watch out," I said playfully, "I might even bite."

"Wouldn't that be a tragedy," was her sarcastic answer. "I'm so scared."

I laughed. It was a nice, good-feeling laugh. A real laugh. Not a mocking laugh that I had used when I first met Zero.

She sat down next to me on the bench. We talked for a while, not really about anything in particular, we just talked. Just getting to know each other a little better. We did so for at least two hours, if not more. After we had run out of things to talk about we just sat quietly in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Zero looked over and stared at me, not in a bad way, just in a curious way. I stared back. Yes, I did love her. Her personality was so intriguing, so interesting. As I watched her, I wished that she had been allowed to grow up before she had been "remade"... or whatever. She would have been extraordinarily beautiful, no doubts there. I sighed. She was just so lovely. 

"What are you thinking about?" Zero asked.

"You."

"Why?" she prodded.

"Because," I blushed. I didn't want to tell her that I loved her. Not yet, anyway. "Tell me again why you were, um, 'created'."

That question seemed to catch her off-guard a bit. "Oh, um. I'm still not allowed to tell you."

"Was it for an evil purpose?"

"It depends on your definition of evil."

"What? Have you killed people or something?"

Zero hesitated. "Yes."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "You? Really?"

"You think I look to innocent to be a killer? Looks can be deceiving you know."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

"Who told you that?"

"Lot's of people." I paused for a minute or so before I asked my next question, "Do you ever wonder about it? Your past, I mean."

"Yes," she answered. "It's the thing I want to know most. In fact, my master and I made a deal that if I did a certain something for him then he would let me know of my past; he would give me back my memories."

"What kind of a deal?" I questioned.

She hesitated again. "I... I can't tell you," she stated, almost sounding melancholy and rueful.

Our conversation stopped for a while and we just sat there, not really doing much of anything except, well, sitting. Just sitting and staring. Staring off into space. I watched some little kids run around in circles playing Tag and fighting over who got to be "it." I looked over at Zero again. How could such a person like her be a killer? But then again, looks can be deceiving, just like she said. 

She was so pretty. My first impulse was to kiss her, but I controlled myself; there were, after all, people watching and they might find it slightly, if not greatly, odd for a guy in his late teens kissing a "child". Zero looked at me. How I wished I could read her mind! I guess she could read mine because just then she leaned over and kissed me lightly on my cheek. The gesture surprised me almost as much as I enjoyed the touch of her soft lips against my skin. I shivered. Her kiss was cold. Not cold as in unfeeling or indifferent, but cold as in temperature. But that's what made it so incredible, so wonderful, so amazing, so indescribably remarkable. 'Screw the people, let them watch,' I thought. I leaned over and kissed her, but in the middle of it, realised someone was looking at us. 

I backed my face away a few inches and only moved my eyes to see who was watching us. Zero didn't even glance over at what I was looking at. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, annoyed. I could hear the "I'm gonna kill you if you don't leave me alone" tone in her voice.

The man looking at us shook his head and hands "no" and said with a freaky sounding accent, "Naw. Hey it's these modern times kids. You two go on ahead and do whatever you want."

Then, as if she recognized the voice, she looked dead on at the man. As I looked closer at him I recognized him to be that Dr. Gero guy who had been eating over at our house talking with my dad for the past few days.

"Well, hello Trent Namisaki," he greeted.

"What are you doing here?" Zero asked impatiently, but respectfully.

"Wait a minute," I said, "You know this guy?"

"I see you've met Zero," Dr. Gero commented. "What do you think of her? Yes, we know each other. Quite well in fact."

I turned toward Zero. "Is this the guy you were telling me about?"

Dr. Gero looked sharply at Zero. "You told him, Zero?!"

"Not everything. Just about myself. I never even mentioned your name or anything. I swear."

"About yourself? What about you? There is nothing much to tell, is there? Since you don't know much more than only that past seven years of your life."

She looked down at the ground. What were they talking about? Tell me what; what wasn't Zero supposed to tell me? Was this the man who turned Zero into what she was now: a killer?

Dr. Gero turned to me. "You must be very confused."

I nodded. He continued.

"You probably have many questions as to what is going on, don't you? And, naturally, you would like to know the answers."

I nodded again.

"Well, my friend, all will be explained in due time. All in due time, all in due time. But for now, Zero and I must go." He motioned for Zero to follow him. "Come, Zero. You will see Lover Boy again soon, you know that. Now come along, come along."

Zero stood slowly and removed her jacket from my shoulders. She looked at me, then followed Dr. Gero who had begun walking away.

"All in due time, all in due time," he kept repeating.

I stood up from the bench. 

'No, Zero come back. I love you Zero, I love you. Come back. I need you. Don't go. Come back. Tell me. Please. Tell me what you're hiding. I need to know, I want to know. Please,' was what I was silently saying. But all I could hear in my mind was, "All in due time."

All in due time. Hurry. Please...


	3. Part Three: Suko Namisaki

Part Three: Suko Namisaki

1: Numb

_"Yeah this is how it ends_

_After all these years_

_tired of it all_

_hopelessly helplessly broken apart_

_He finally falls_

_He doesn't want to think_

_Doesn't want to feel_

_Doesn't want to know what's going on_

_Says there's nothing he can do will change anything_

_He doesn't want to know what's going wrong_

_Because he's in love with a drug_

_One that makes him numb_

_One that stops him feeling at all_

_He's in love with a drug_

_Forget everyone_

_He really doesn't care anymore_

_Anymore..."_

            I sat on my bed and listened to the lulling voice of Robert Smith of The Cure as he sang his group's song "Numb."  It was one of my favorite songs from The Cure.  The melody was nice, but I'd never really paid much attention to the words.  Until now.

            Along with sitting on my bed and listening to The Cure, I was reading.  Reading my brother's journal.  I'd promised him a few years back that I would never butt into his privacy, but he had been acting so strange lately and wouldn't tell me what was wrong.  So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I knew something was wrong with him and I needed to know what it was.  While reading his most recent entries from the past two weeks some things started to become more clear, while others just confused me more.  I cried at the entry where he said he was going to commit suicide.  I couldn't believe that he would go that far.  At least that explained why he kept saying "Nothing matters anymore" the first night Dr. Gero came for dinner.  But why didn't he tell me?  Well duh, Suko, you were only just ranting on him about his drug use the day before.  He knew that I would have tried to stop him.

            Stop him...  That part about the little girl saving him was weird.  Was that actually true or is he just so stoned all the time now that he thinks whatever stupid bizarre things that pop into his imagination are reality?  But he continued to write about her in every single entry after that.  He talked about looking for her and never finding her so at first I assumed his mind was out of reality, but then he wrote that he had actually found her.  He had been going out to see her almost everyday since he found her again.  So maybe this Zero person does exist.

            He mentioned something about Dr. Gero too.  That weirdo scientist guy creeps me out.  He keeps showing up for dinner then having confidential business talks with Dad afterword that even Mom isn't allowed to hear.  And now it seems like he's stalking Trent and knows this Zero chick pretty well.  I shivered.  Creepy.

            At least Zero took Trent's mind off of suicide.  I wanted to meet this Zero person.  She sounded interesting.  And if she's interesting enough to intrigue Trent then she must be pretty dang interesting.  A cyborg?  Really?  Trapped forever in the body of a child; that must suck.  What was Dr. Gero's connection in all this mess?  Was he the one who "created" her?  I wonder if Trent's dream really does mean something.  Maybe, maybe not.

            I put down the journal and just listened to "Numb."

_"Yeah this is how it ends_

_After all this time_

_Everything just fades away_

_Worn-out and empty and all alone_

_With nothing left to say_

_Oh it's all too big to make a difference_

_It's all too wrong to make it right_

_Yeah everything is too unfair_

_Everything too much to bear_

_He doesn't have the strength left for the fight..."_

            Hey, this sounds kind of like what Trent is feeling.__

_"Says all he wants is the drug_

_The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all_

_He just wants to take the drug_

_Forget everyone_

_He doesn't want to care anymore..."_

            Yep, Trent.  It's just so sad...__

_"Just keeps loving the drug_

_The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all..."_

            ...The likeness, it's so sad.__

_"Just keeps loving the drug_

_The drug that he's become_

_He isn't really here anymore..._

_"And that makes me cry" _

            Yes, that makes me cry.  Trent, he's in love with a drug, and it makes him almost numb.  And soon, he'll probably become a drug himself...  I hope not.

            The song was on repeat so it proceeded to play itself again when it had ended.  

_"Yeah this is how it ends_

_After all these years_

_tired of it all_

_hopelessly helplessly broken apart_

_He finally falls_

_He doesn't want to think_

_Doesn't want to feel_

_Doesn't want to know what's going on_

_Says there's nothing he can do will change anything_

_He doesn't want to know what's going wrong..."_

            It amazed me how much this song almost mirrored what was written in my twin's journal.

He was so depressed about his life and finally lost control.  He was broken; he didn't really care about much and didn't think anything mattered.  He wanted to just be numb, basically.  

_"Oh it's all too big to make a difference_

_It's all too wrong to make it right_

_Yeah everything is so unfair_

_Everything too much to bear_

_He doesn't have the strength left for the fight...'''_

Everything I had wondered about just clicked right then.  I thought he was strong, and he was.  "Was" being the operative word.  He wasn't anymore.  Not as strong as he used to be.  I remembered how one day when we were nine years old I had forgotten to bring something home from school and Dad got really angry, so he smacked me across the face.  It had hurt so much and I started crying.  When Trent and I were alone he told me not to cry and to be strong.  From then on I strived to be like him, strong.  He was always the strong one, and now he's not.  Tears swelled up in my eyes.  I was losing Trent.  I wanted him back.  Zero had saved him from suicide, and I was grateful for that because I don't know how I could go on living knowing he was dead, but now she was taking him away from me.  He was growing distant.  He never really stops to see what's going on with me all that much anymore.  Zero was stealing him from me; making him numb, whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted to or not.  

_"Says all he wants is the drug_

_The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all_

_He just wants to take the drug_

_Forget Everyone..."_

            But... he can't forget me.  But, then again, maybe he can.  He's fallen too deep in love with Zero; he's in love with his drug...__

_"...The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all_

_Just keeps loving the drug_

_The drug that he's become_

_He isn't really here anymore..."_

            "And that makes me cry," I sang in unison with the cd.  And I was crying.

            Suddenly, I heard voices shouting downstairs.  It was Dad and Trent.  Oh no, Trent's home.  I grabbed his journal and raced frantically to his room.  I quickly found the spot where I had found it and placed the journal there, under his mattress.  I scrambled up off my knees and ran out the room and shut the door.  I turned around to return to my bedroom and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Trent standing two feet away from me.  He looked tired.  I could tell he had been punched again because there was the beginning of a bruise forming on the left side of his jaw.

            "T-trent," I stuttered.  "What brings you here?"  Stupid, stupid.

            Trent's jaw dropped out of sheer astonishment of such a stupid question, he winced from the pain of his new bruise.  "Well, uh, let's see here Suko," he began, sounding very annoyed and on the brink of losing it.  "This is my house and through that doorway you are blocking is my room, after all, and I'm tired and would like to spend some time alone in there, if you don't mind.  Now please move."

            "Okay." 

            I proceded to step aside when Trent stopped me and eyed me suspiciously, "What brings _you_ here Suko?" he asked.

            Busted.  I searched my mind trying to think of an excuse.  "I, uh, cleaned your room for you," oh yeah, that's a real winner.  It'll only take him two seconds to figure that one out.

            And sure enough, Trent opened the door, looked in and said, "Suko, it's dirty.  What is your definition of 'clean' anyway?"

            "Well, you see.  I had originally intended to clean your room but I got distracted and decided to borrow a book."  That much was true.

            He raised an eyebrow, "What book?"

            "Your, uh, History book."

            "Suko, school's out.  I don't even take a History class."

            "Yeah, I remembered that when I didn't find a History book."

            Trent sighed, too tired to really argue.  "Whatever, Sis.  I think you're on crack."  He then walked into his room.

            Halfway through the doorway he stopped dead and turned around.  "Suko, you didn't..."

            Did he mean his journal?  I looked over at his mattress.  No, it was in place.  No evidence to let him know I had been snooping.  "I didn't what?" I asked, trying to sound clueless.

            I guess it worked because he just sighed again and grumbled something under his breath about nevermind and being hungry for a BLT sandwich.  He turned around and shut the door.

            I breathed a sigh of relief.  I walked back into my room.  "Numb" was still playing.

_"...Everything just fades away_

_Worn-out and empty and all alone...'"_

            Yes, Trent was worn-out.  So was I.  I hoped he wouldn't find out that I had read his journal, broken our promise.  And just as I was thinking that I heard a knock at my door.  I walked over and opened it.  I saw Trent standing there shaking his head incredulously.  I looked down at his hands.  He was holding his journal.

            "Suko, you did, didn't you?"

            "How...?"

            He held up the book to his last entry and pointed to some wet spots where the ink was smeared.  "I didn't cry while writing this last entry.  And besides, it's still wet."

            I just stood there.

            "Suko, how could you?" his voice sounded hurt, betrayed.  I couldn't blame him.

            I looked up slowly.  His face showed no emotion, which is how it looks if he is extremely angry or unhappy.  The look he only gives if he is so enraged or saddened that he cannot display any emotion; the look of one who has been betrayed by the one he trusts most.  I opened my mouth to speak but he stopped me.

            "No, don't try to give an explanation.  Nothing can explain why you did this!" he was shouting by the end of his sentence and waving the journal around.  "Nothing can explain why you broke our promise, why you read that which have I put down onto paper what is in my heart!" he continued to shout.

            "What, you're turning into Shakespeare now?" I asked sarcastically in automatic defense.  I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

            "Shut up Suko!!  Just shut up!  You know what?  Just take this stupid thing, since you find it so interesting," he threw the journal at me.  "I never want to speak to you or listen to you again!  Never!" he slammed my door shut and shouted, "NEVER!!" once more.

            I picked up the fallen journal and looked at the page stained with my tears and touched the smeared ink.  "I'm sorry," I whispered pointlessly.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Trent." 

            The song continued to play; I turned up the volume.

_"...Says all he wants is the drug_

_The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all_

_He just wants to take the drug_

_Forget Everyone_

_He doesn't want to care anymore_

_Just keeps loving the drug_

_The one that makes him numb_

_The one that stops him feeling at all_

_Just keeps loving the drug_

_The drug that he's become_

_He isn't really here anymore..._

_And that makes me cry" _

            By now there were tears falling off my face like Niagara Falls.  I collapsed onto my pillow and sobbed, repeating Trent's name over and over again while The Cure's "Numb" blared loudly.__


End file.
